


shingeki no baseball

by phineas



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 08:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phineas/pseuds/phineas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a basic need, the bare bones of what combating is. And he could barely do it without someone holding his hand.</p><p>Death feels imminent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shingeki no baseball

**Author's Note:**

> A collaborative fic I began with a friend. Unsure where it may go, if it goes anywhere at all, but I thought I should at least put it out there.

The sun is unbearably hot on Mihashi’s skin. Drop by drop, sweat rolls off his temples as he stands, fists as his side, among the hundreds of other recruits. He’s achieved his goal, hasn’t he? Shouldn’t he feel excited, heart thumping, knees shaking, and ready to defend humanity from the terrors behind the walls?

His knees are shaking, but it’s definitely not in excitement.

The barking voice of the captain starts to close in as she marches down the line. The trainees around him seem to be calm...or at least that’s what Mihashi thinks. He hasn’t looked at his surroundings in fear that he’ll make unnecessary eye contact with a stranger. What if they think lowly of him? Is he too scrawny? Will they glance over at him and ask the captain to escort him out because of his inability to swing a sword?

The answer is probably yes. Despite the desperate need for soldiers, higher personnel weren’t afraid to kick a trainee out for incompetency-- better to be one man short than to have a hindrance in a squad. That could lead to the fatality of a whole team of soldiers, and even worse, to a household of civilians.

With all of this in mind, Mihashi does his best to look inconspicuous with the loaf of bread tucked in the back of his shirt. He hopes it won’t taste of sweat later, because it was honestly the most delicious looking thing he had set his eyes on from his time as a child in wall Sina, where his grandfather was anything if not generous with his portions.

It doesn’t seem as if anyone has caught on, yet. Not even the stern looking boy beside him, or the sergeant herself as she makes her rounds to humiliate each and every cadet personally. Mihashi isn’t sure how anyone made it through. He’d felt so wound up simply listening to her all the way down the line, voice echoing off the sheer nothingness of the training grounds--

“What’s your name? What is your purpose here? What’s your purpose in life? Do you really think you can save the people who are closest to you with an attitude like that?” and he swore he would have broke his own arm off had she continued for even a second longer.

“Takaya Abe!”

His voice is loud.

“And why are you here, boy?”

“To kill titans, ma’am!”

And strong.

“That’s sir, to you!”

Without hesitation.

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Mihashi casts a nervous glance sideways to catch the black haired boy staring straight into the face of death, fate, and fear all herself without a single trace of-- anything, any sort of emotion, on his face. They hold each other’s stare long enough for the shifting of other cadets to be heard-- then she smiles at him, or perhaps to herself, before moving on, and Mihashi feels like he really wants to become friends with whoever this Takaya Abe is.

He needs someone strong like that.

“You.”

His sweaty body stiffens as the sergeant leers down at him, her mouth in a disconcerting smile. The loaf in his shirt starts to weigh heavier with each passing second. If she were to discover it...

“Y-Y-Yes...!”

“I didn’t ask for a yes or no.”

A gurgle escapes his lips as he fumbles for the words. “H-H-H.....H.....H...”

“Speak up!”

“Hihashi Hen...!” he blurts out, then flushing at his mistake, “N-No....H-Hen....no...!”

“Do you have a backbone, boy?” She reaches over and slaps his back, squishing the bread against his damp skin. Mihashi lets out a strangled yelp at the sharp sting and the flattened bread tumbles out from underneath his shirt and onto the ground. The yard falls silent.

No other thought races through his mind as the meek boy quickly bends down to scoop up his treasure. He pats off the dirt with his rough hands and sniffs it to certain that it was alright. With a sigh of relief, he tucks it back under his shirt.

“What is that?”

He freezes, the loaf halfway in. He drags his eyes upward to the sergeant’s shadowed face. She...she was standing there the whole time, wasn’t she?

Mihashi’s tongue is thick in his mouth as he tries to articulate exactly what he was holding. Bread, right? Isn’t that the obvious answer?

He tries to swallow. The whole field is dead silent, dead like Mihashi might as well be, and the boy next to him still has his eyes set straight ahead-- this is it, this is the end for good ol’ Ren Mihashi, better known as “Hihashi Hen” at this point-- and when the blond thinks he might as well just curl up on the ground and let the sergeant kick the living daylights out of him or make him run laps until sunset, he hears something.

“Bread, sir-ma’am!”

It’s a scratchy voice, and when Mihashi makes a panicked lookaround for its source, his eyes land upon a boy with freckles scattered all across the bridge of his nose. Sergeant Momoe says nothing, as if challenging either to expand further on what ‘bread’ could possibly be.

“Bread, like from the kitchens, y’know! I think he stole it!”

And he laughs, the stout little kid laughs. And he looks at Mihashi like he thinks he’s the coolest guy ever-- who would’ve thought of that? Stealing? Hilarious! What a prank! Another boy quickly punches that kid in the elbow-- he’s got freckles too. Or is it acne?

Even though it looks like he was holding in laughter, too--

Momoe stands upright slowly, backing out of Mihashi’s personal space. She looks over at the two boys, then to Mihashi-- the echoes of snickering dies out.

The three of them run laps until supper. And by that time, Mihashi is sure he has gone to heaven to hell and back-- at the very least, he’s made some friends. Maybe. He hopes it’s not a little too presumptuous to call Yuuichirou Tajima (who never seemed to tire even as the sun set) and Kousuke Izumi (who, despite being exhausted, never found time to stop complaining) his friends.

The trio walk into the noisy mess hall, hoping that there’s at least a roll left for them.

“Hey, Mihashi,” the ‘Hihashi Hen’ was sorted out during their laps, “if there’s nothing left, I’m sure you’ll be able to steal something from the kitchen.” Tajima nudges the blond boy playfully and looks around the room. “Where do you guys wanna sit?”

“Let’s decide that after we get ourselves something to eat.” Izumi hands each boy a shallow tin as they move through the line to receive some thin soup and a slice of bread. The smell of food is divine, and Mihashi can’t help but drool as the three of them stand around looking for a place to sit.

Everyone seems to be doing fine despite the reason of being here. As expected, most of the food is gone-- being a soldier means being well fed. Not many people are going to take advantage of the military sized portions-- in fact, it is probably true that most people want to be as brave as Mihashi. They all want to steal from the bountiful harvest. Nobody is pure in desperate times like these.

Well, that’s what Mihashi wants to believe-- but with the wailing at one of the back tables, he really can’t believe it.

“I can’t! Not when I know my family is suffering!”

The epicenter of all the racket seems to be a tall recruit with dark skin and a short haircut-- he should be intimidating. And he should be eating, because a large guy like that needs his nourishment-- but it looks like only about half of his porridge has been swallowed down, and only two bites out of his half loaf of bread have been eaten. His fellow recruits all look rather tired. Not surprised or sympathetic, but tired, as if they’ve seen this happen time and time again.

“Daichi, c’mon, just eat your food--”

There only comes wailing in response. The recruit next to him pats his shoulders, pushing the bowl closer to the desolate man, “They’re going to suffer more if they know you’re not eating. Eat up.”

Daichi shakes his furiously as he struggles against the hands trying to feed him, “I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!”

“They’re going to die if you’re not strong enough to protect them from the Titans.”

The keening immediately stops and the squirming recruit sits limply on the bench. His friends watch in silence as he starts to slowly finish his meal, scraping every bit of porridge from the sides of the bowl. The shaking in his hands can be seen from where Mihashi is standing and he can’t help but shudder at the reality.

Someone lightly prods Mihashi’s shoulder, urging him to walk forward to an empty table. Now the smell of food is an unsettling pit in his stomach. He needs to eat.

The third part of bread he splits between Izumi and Tajima is oddly filling. He’s not hungry anymore, but there is a strange emptiness when he remembers the way that taller cadet slouched out of the mess hall.

* * *

 

 

The lights are still on from cabin to cabin, candle flames flickering unsure warmth against the darkness of the evening. Everyone is tired-- or at least, everybody should be, but Takaya can hear some clamoring outside the window of his barrack.

It must be those jackasses from this morning’s lineup.

He doesn’t look up from the maneuvering gear in his lap, reeling the wires back and forth and staring at the coil as it wraps around the wheel. The younger looking of his roommates peers at him but says nothing-- he has sleepy looking eyes. Abe pretends he doesn’t notice and continues testing the tension on the wires and shining the blades of his knives until the door creaks open and he realises he couldn’t have been lucky enough to get a bunk bed to himself.

The bread boy from earlier peers around the door. Not only does Abe have to share a bunk, but he has to share it with a petty food thief. The kid’s pretty scrawny for a guy who steals food. But it doesn’t matter, that guy’s going to beg to work at the landfills after tomorrow. By the way he’s fidgeting and glancing around, it’s possible that he’ll leave tonight.

Back and forth, back and forth. His eyes follow the wires, the satisfying hum of the wheel gently rattling against his hands. His roommates look at each other, then amble over to the nervous boy standing near the door.

“So...Hihashi, was it?” The sleepy looking one looks the blond over as he starts to nod, then shakes his head abruptly. “...It’s not Hihashi?”

“N-No...!”

“It was Hen, right?” Abe’s voice is flat, and when Mihashi jerks his shoulders up to his ears and darts his eyes over, the boy’s head is still bowed down. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Ah...n-no...” At least he got the first name, well...close enough. Mihashi shakes his head and opens his mouth. Then he shuts it. It opens again. “I...I-it’s...R...R-R-R...”

Open and shut, open and shut. Croaks and whimpers seem to the the only noises he can muster. Because the cadet on the bed isn’t watching, it only makes Mihashi even more anxious and unsure.

“R...R-R...en...”

“Hmm, Ren?” The other guy, he’s got dimples, speaks up. And he seems nicer than sleepy-eyed guy-- he smiles, and it seems sincere. Mihashi thanks god that there’s a nice person in his barrack.

“I’m Kazuki Kawai.” He pauses and casts a sideways glance to the boy beside him, whose mouth is quivering-- Ren feels all the anxiety return back to him ten fold. “And this is Junta.”

There’s a pause as he waits for Junta to regain himself-- his cheeks are pink with withheld laughter, and after a few deep breaths, Kazuki continues with only a mild expression of annoyance. Mihashi wonders what the joke is.

“Takase. He’s Junta Takase.”

The breath that Takase lets come out of his sounds like a huge sigh of relief-- he waves his hand at Mihashi.

“Your face is so funny, man, are you doin’ that on purpose?”

“Eh? Ah, funny? I-- think...” There’s a long pause. Kazuki stares at the blond with worry as he shrinks back. Mihashi mumbles, “thank you...”, and both Junta and he decide that the scrawny little fella is a little too tuckered out from running laps all day to be making conversation.

Mihashi slinks his way over to the bunk and raises a hand. “Ah...i-is it a...alright if I t-t-take this b...bed...?”

“Mm.” It sounds sort of affirmative. Mihashi isn’t actually sure if Abe said anything at all, how quickly it came out coupled with the fact that he still had not moved--

“Um.”

The sound of the wire whirring finally stops. Abe passes a glance to Kawai(does it look like there are any other beds to take?), who half smiles at him(he’s sure Mihashi is just trying to be polite)-- Abe closes his eyes and breathes out of his nose.

“I don’t care.”

“O-Oh...” He doesn’t know how to respond. Should he thank him? Or give a curt nod like the cool guys standing outside of the mess hall? Or both? Can someone execute both a nod and a thank you?

“Th-thank y--” Mihashi’s words are cut off as his forehead hits the wooden beam mid nod. He lets out a yelp and rubs his head.

Abe doesn’t react to the shorter boy’s failed attempt and resumes fiddling with the wires. What the hell was that kid trying to do anyway?

Mihashi’s shoulders slump at the lack of acknowledgement and he grabs a ladder rung with a sigh. That Takaya Abe is a tough character, certainly fit to be part of the corps. He’ll survive. Pulling his small bag onto the bed, Ren feels his stomach rumble as his body lands on the mattress.

Kawai and Junta converse good-naturedly with each other as everyone else starts to settle for the night. The muffled whirring continues from underneath him and Mihashi rubs his stomach as it protests once again. Hopefully, he’ll hold off eating that potato he’s packed until the end of the week. Or maybe tomorrow.

The humming of the wires from Abe’s bed lulls him to sleep.

* * *

 

 

After the chaos of morning preparations, the cadets are gathered in front of a row of gear practice apparatus. Everyone is making a sport out of each trial-- this is the closest they will get to trivial entertainment in a long time. If a person can’t do this in a test, sure, it’s a good laugh as they get flipped upside down-- but in the real world, it means being eaten in half by a grinning menace.

So Mihashi does his best to stay upright in the suspension of wires and pulleys, but the whole world takes him for a seismic toss before he can even exhale in relief. So he tries again. And again.

Izumi finishes up with his test and comes by the watch.

Again, Mihashi feels the blood rush to his head as he exclaims helplessly. When the wires are lowered again and he pulls himself upright, breathing shallow and flustered, Yuuichiro and Takaya and what seems like everyone and their mom have shown face to catch the show of his humiliation.

“Alright, that’s enough!”

Sergeant Momoe seems rather tired of watching Ren get beat up by the ground. She makes no move to help the exhausted cadet up from the ground. There’s a pitying gaze from the crowd, few whisper amongst themselves about the landfills and Mihashi can feel dread filling his chest.

“I-I-I...I-I...c-can d-d-do it...! O-One--”

“Try again tomorrow.” Her gaze is unreadable as she turns to the crowd. “Go to the mess hall and get yourselves something to eat. And to the people who haven’t passed their test,” Momoe’s gaze hardens and scans the crowd, “Pray to God that luck shines on you tomorrow.”

* * *

“Careful! You’re gonna drop him!”

Tajima laughs and yanks at the wire in his hand-- Mihashi’s limp leg jerks up with it, and he lets out a meager yelp.

“He’s like a puppet!”

The taller cadet beside him gently lowers the rest of the trembling blond’s body to the ground. His name is Hanai-- and he’s a softie. He has two sisters and a mom, but no dad from what anybody (read: Tajima) knows. He mutters something gruffly about Tajima needing to take this seriously, and his face looks so pink that Mihashi can’t tell if it’s from the sun or from frustration.

“Hey, you shouldn’t feel bad about it, alright, Ren?”

As the last hook is pulled from his 3d maneuver gear, Mihashi tries to blink away his stupid crybaby tears. He can hear Izumi sigh a bit.

“You’re hungry, right? That’s probably why you couldn’t do it today.”

Mihashi nods, even though he doesn’t believe it himself and Izumi let’s him half a half of his bread ration that night. He eats it, but a whole different sort of emptiness fills him from yesterday. He can’t tell if Takaya wordlessly sitting across from him makes it better or worse, and decides not to dwell on it.

“There’s always tomorrow, don’t worry too much about it.” Tajima pats Ren’s back as he swallows. “I know you’ll do great.”

But that’s the thing. Mihashi knows that he’ won’t do great, not even well. His body feels awkward with the harness every time he’s lifted into the air. Almost immediately, he is always flipped upside down, left to flounder like a freshly caught fish.

Every bite does nothing for the emptiness in his stomach. Why does he bother trying? Why did he want to join the corps in the first place? He can’t even balance himself. What’s a soldier without his gear?

Dead, that’s what.

The last piece of bread gets stuck in his throat and Mihashi coughs, reaching for water, to wash it down. Tajima and Izumi rapidly hit his back to help the hacking cadet as Takaya watches, slowly chewing his food.

“I...!” Mihashi coughs and weakly motions for the other boys to cease their hitting, “I...I w-want...to p-p-practice...!”

“Are you sure? You shouldn’t overexert yourself, Ren.” Hanai’s brows are furrowed with concern as he finishes his meal from across the table.

Tajima slams his hands on the table, “Hey, don’t look down on Mihashi. Let him practice. He doesn’t need your pity!”

“Don’t get the wrong idea!”

The two continue to bicker as the blond watches in confusion. They’re attracting attention and once their eyes land on Mihashi, they soften. The empty feeling worsens. Kousuke leans over and pats his shoulder, “It’s alright. I’ll help you at the practice 'til you feel comfortable--”

“Don’t leave me out, Izumi! I’m gonna help Mihashi too!” Tajima’s attention is averted back to his friend. Any rage he felt from the earlier argument is no longer evident as he cheekily smiles and punches Mihashi’s arm playfully. “You’ll be able to balance in no time!”

Mihashi doesn’t really know what to say. Then again, he never does. Having so many supportive people around him seems like it should be a lofty fantasy, especially in times like these-- but here he is, surrounded by all these kind people working towards a common goal-- it seems strange. Impossible.

“No-- I... mean, i-it’s... ok-ay, s-so, don’t--” His voice grows quieter, but Tajima interjects with a no, of course not! Don’t even think about it, Mihashi! and suddenly Takaya slams his hands on the table and stands up. The place goes quiet, and there is a terribly long moment where Mihashi finds himself gaping up at the taller cadet whose poise and skill and even just his face says that he’ll be going places.

Abe walks off with his tray in tow.

Tajima asks what the hell that was all about, and Hanai assures Mihashi that he shouldn’t be bothered by it-- nobody really knows what Abe’s deal is anyway. It makes Ren curious. It makes him think, probably for the whole night, even as they train over time and he finds himself with more scuffs on his tunic and more scrapes on his ear and cheek and nose.

* * *

 

He’s reeling the wire back and forth again when Mihashi returns. The gas engine is out this time, though, split open with its fans bared to the ceiling and the propellers of its jet scandalously naked.

“A--Eh--”

Takaya’s silence and general lack of acknowledgement makes the words stop and start haphazardly. Ren squirms his way closer, the wire of his gear trailing behind him. Abe reaches forward and Mihashi swears he nearly wets himself when the coil is yanked and returns to its wheel.

“What is it.”

He seems calmer than before.

“I...it--the...I-I...” Mihashi inhales deeply before continuing, “I...I’m...b-b-back...a-and...” His voice decides to stop right then and he mumbles before pointing at the engine.

“...What?”

Mihashi makes weird sounds in reply.

“ _I can’t hear you,_ ” Abe barks suddenly, and Ren swears he just wet himself. He never figured Takaya the type to lose his cool-- sure, he seemed irritable, but-- it felt like the whole training ground had shook with that outburst.

Tears start to prick the corners of his eyes but he roughly rubs them away with the back of his hand. No need to add to the crybaby reputation he’s built up. His hand clenches his gear for support as Ren releases a shaky breath and tries again.

“Th...the g-gas...en...gine is...ou-out...?” His finger trembles as he tentatively gestures to the engine in the other boy’s lap. Well how obvious could he get? Of course it was out. Abe returns his attention to his gear, his brows furrowed in half annoyance, half confusion--more like three-fourths annoyance and one-fourth confusion--

“No, it’s not out of gas? I don’t get what you’re trying to say.”

“The... it’s open.”

Mihashi can hear him exhale.

“How did the training go?”

Caught off guard at the change of subject, Ren sputters and drools and completely misses the way Takaya grimaces at him with an expression bordering disgust.

“Good-- it was, I m-mean... it.” It went fine.

“Really. I thought you guys wouldn’t’ve gotten anything done.”

Mihashi’s hand slides down the back of his neck, sticky with sweat. Junta and Kazuki are outside, their voices muffled over a private and personal conversation that they didn’t want Takaya to eavesdrop on. At least, that’s what Mihashi figures.

“U-um, i-it’s... no, they.” Pause. “Were really.” Pause. Abe feels some heat rush into his face. “H-h--hel...” Pause. “Supportive.”

“...Supportive? You mean they held you up while you were on the wires?”

Ren jumps and straightens out his arms so that he can seem at attention, but then he realises that Takaya isn’t a higher officer, so he tries to look cool and run a hand through his hair but his left hand only makes it about half way before he thinks that maybe that looks dumb. And so he freezes, his hand hovering nearby his forehead and his left hand clenched in a tight fist.

He nods.

Abe glares at him. Mihashi can feel the sweat pooling down his neck.

“You’re not gonna get anywhere like that!”

Ah, he’s being scolded all of a sudden-- Mihashi darts his eyes up and around the cabin. Maybe if he doesn’t look at Abe, Abe won’t look at him-- or something.

“You know you’ve gotta test again tomorrow, don’t you?”

Mihashi can’t bring himself to say anything. Everyone was being so nice, and they were having fun-- what’s wrong with that? Isn’t that fine? Even if-- even if he can’t pass tomorrow--

“Hey, are you listening to me?!” The grapple wire recoils, and Abe sets it to the side, leaning forward with his hands on his knees and a heavy knot in the line of his brow. Whimpering fearfully, Ren clutches his head and nods as vigorously as he can-- yes, I heard you, please stop yelling, you’re scaring me-- Takaya clicks his tongue and expels a breath from his mouth that is positively seething. And Mihashi can feel it-- he can feel it because Takaya has stood up from the bed, the straps of his 3d maneuver gear still wrapped around his legs and waist.

“You know you’re gonna get killed out there if you can’t do this right, don’t you?!” And more importantly-- “You’re gonna get other people killed! So either you start trying now, or just pack up and get to the landfills already!”

Start trying now. Something should click in Mihashi’s brain at that instant-- Abe doesn’t think he’s taking this seriously. Abe thinks Mihashi is here to make friends and to goof around-- to steal food that he should be thankful to get in the first place, and to make it into the military police so he doesn’t ever have to see the real terrors of the world.

That’s what Abe’s deal is, Mihashi should realise that.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he thinks that he’s a failure that someone as amazing as Takaya can’t help but get angry at-- to hate, because he’s pathetic, and he wails weakly that he’s sorry and stumbles out the door. He doesn’t even brush away the tears that drizzle down his cheeks as he numbly staggers by his confused roommates outside.

His sniffling morphs into sobbing as he drags himself inch by inch away from the cabins, away from the eyes waiting to tease him, waiting to see his departure to the landfills.

Waiting to tell him “I told you so.”

Something catches his foot and Mihashi is propelled forward. He reaches out to catch himself and whimpers as the pebbles dig into his palms and knees. What did he do? Mihashi pushes himself back up and plops down on the warm, earthy road, dirt streaking his face as he wipes the dampness from his cheeks. Why can’t he do anything right?

All he wants is to help. He wants to save lives, he wants to impact someone with his own hands, actually do something on his own. Yes, Mihashi isn’t as strong or quick to learn like the others. Hell, he can’t even go an hour without hearing his stomach growling. Living with his grandfather was a blessing, but it only gained judgemental looks.

Why do you want to leave Sina to fight the Titans? It’s more comfortable there, and plenty safer. Live luxuriously while you can. Humanity won’t last much longer. Your grandfather is an important man! The only reason you’re here is because of him. You’d still be out there in Wall Maria if it wasn’t for him.

Everything he seemed to accomplish was because of his grandfather. Nothing, nothing was “because of Ren.” It was “because of Grandfather.”

But...he’s managed decently on his own so far. Besides his inability to stay right side up on the 3d maneuvering apparatus, Ren managed to enroll himself into the corps and makes friends without his grandfather’s influence. His new friends like him for who he is, not his family connection.

His crying has died down, only a stray hiccup and his runny nose the evidence for his self-pity party. Wiping his hands on his trousers, Mihashi painfully stands up, his knees groaning in protest.

If he wants to stay, he’ll have to practice, even if his body feels sore tomorrow morning or even for the rest of his life. He’s willing to go that far to just make himself worth something for the first time in his life. Now, if he could figure out how he’s going to get the apparatus to work without two other people to hold him up--

Minor details aside, as the Sun is finally beginning to rise, Mihashi, with his hair in and whole body in a disheveled mess, can balance. He trembles and wavers at first-- he can’t believe it. He can’t believe it, but he’s done it-- he’s doing it, and the relieved smile spreading across his face wipes his mind of all the exhaustion and labor.

He’s earned the right to stay.

A hot yawn drags its way out of Hanai’s mouth-- he and his roommate, Sakaeguchi, were kind enough to sacrifice their night’s sleep for Mihashi after hearing the poor creature struggle in the dark. This is only the beginning, the sergeant wans them-- her hair is down, and the sun catches bright on it-- Mihashi feels fear. This is a basic need, the bare bones of what combating is. And he could barely do it without someone holding his hand.

Death feels imminent.


End file.
